


A Tall Drink of Water

by rewmariewrites



Category: Crazy Stupid Love (2011), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Edward Elric Swears, F/M, Grey's Anatomy References, M/M, Modern AU, Roy is gonna do the Dirty Dancing move, Slow To Update, Swearing, a gratuitous use of swear words actually, alphonse is totally committed to winry but can recognize a fine piece of ass when he sees one, let edward elric say fuck, like a gratuitous amount, ling is a shitty boyfriend, mentioned Bradley, referenced Al/Winry, roy is that fine piece of ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewmariewrites/pseuds/rewmariewrites
Summary: “My brother thinks Professor Bradley - the Dean of Science at UBC - is hot,” Al informs Tall Drink, nose wrinkled delicately, dimples still out to play.Tall Drink flashes a dimple of his own as he laughs, head thrown back. It shows off a previously unexplored angle of his jaw - one that’s goddamn fantastic - and Ed knows with sudden clarity that if he’d been standing he would’ve gone weak at the knees. Both knees, even the one that’s fuckin’ robotic.“You know, that’s an intriguing coincidence,” Tall Drink says to Al, “because I think your brother is hot, if you’ll excuse the colloquialism.”





	1. The Bar

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Seriously, it's like you're photoshopped.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2018238) by [nevermetawolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermetawolf/pseuds/nevermetawolf). 



> there'll be no update schedule for this because it's my happy-fun-times project, so chapters will be out as I write them! i hope you enjoy it, though :)

      “Have you and Ling been doing well lately?” Al asks mildly, tapping his nails idly on the side of his glass.

      Ed fuckin’ hates it when Al asks about Ling. Which, lately, is  _ every  _ fuckin’ time they manage to scrape some time out of their busy schedules to get together. Even though it  _ sounds _ perfectly fuckin’ cordial, what Al’s  _ really _ saying is  _ ‘your boyfriend is awful’,  _ and Ed’s pretty fuckin’ tired of having to dance around the subject every week.

      With that in mind, Ed’s tone is probably sharper than it should be. “We’re fine.”

      “Mmm. That’s… nice.” Al keeps  _ tap-tap-tapping _ on that glass, and he’s fuckin’ lucky Ed loves him so much or his entire hand would be halfway across the room by now.

      “You know Al, I’m startin’ to get the idea that you don’t particularly like Ling.”

      Al blushes a little and doesn’t meet Ed’s eyes, choosing instead to stare off into the middle distance like if he  _ pretends _ Ed isn’t glaring a fuckin’ hole into the side of his head, it isn’t actually happening. “I may admit to  _ some _ less-than-enthusiastic feelings about your beau,” is his prim fuckin’ response.

_       “Finally,”  _ Ed breathes, taking a fortifying drink from his glass of water. “Lay it on me. What’s so wrong with Ling that  _ you,  _ the person who likes  _ everyone,  _ don’t like him?”

      “It’s not that I don’t like  _ him,”  _ Al begins, breaking off to give Ed a pointed glare when Ed snorts into his drink. “I just don’t like how he treats you. He’s just so-”

      “Smart? Successful?”

_       “Inattentive.” _

      Ed wrinkles his nose into his water. “Ling’s  _ busy. _ He’s a fifth-year resident trying to become a fuckin’ cardiothoracic surgeon, he has a shitty schedule. I have a shitty schedule too, so it’s not like we’d be spending every fuckin’ moment of every fuckin’ day together even if he had more free time. Besides, it’s not like I need a lot of attention.”

      Al purses his lips, displeased, and takes a dainty sip of his drink. “I know you don’t  _ need _ attention, brother, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to  _ want  _ it. A relationship needs to have passion that’s built on more than stolen minutes in on-call rooms.”

      “Ling’s  _ ambitious,  _ just like me. He doesn’t have  _ time _ to pay attention to me, which is fine, because I don’t have the fuckin’ time to pay attention to  _ him. _ My organic chemistry doctorate isn’t going to happen all on its fuckin’ lonesome.” Ed’s not petulant, you’re petulant. 

      Al rolls his eyes, still not looking directly at Ed. “You’re so unromantic. Which means you need someone who  _ is _ romantic to balance it out, and Ling is _not_ that person. I can’t be that person either because I’m your brother, and that would be  _ weird, _ ” Al declares, sitting back in his chair like he just imparted invaluable fuckin’ wisdom.

      Suddenly, Al lurches forward, eyes wide and bright like he’s just thought of a juice-ass secret that Ed needs to know  _ immediately.  _ It riles the pettier parts of Ed when he can’t resist leaning closer to Al to hear what it is, no matter how annoyed he is at his brother. 

      “See,  _ that _ guy looks like he knows a thing or two about romance,” Al smirks, “He’s the one with the dark hair in the  _ extremely _ well-tailored suit, over by the bar. If you can tell me the last time Ling looked at you like that, I’ll never say another bad thing about him.”

      As surreptitiously as he’s able, which is to say  _ not at all,  _ Ed looks over his shoulder to where Al’s gesturing with his drink. The guy is staring directly and unapologetically at Ed, looking  _ absolutely fuckable _ in the low lighting of the bar. His jaw is about as sharp as his gaze, which is fuckin’ saying something, and as he stands slowly from his stool Ed gets an eyeful of  _ exactly _ how tall he is, and  _ exactly  _ how well he fills out that suit Al was talking about. When Ed finally meets his eye, he’s borderline  _ assaulted _ by that fuckin’ look in the guy’s eyes, and the smirk that’s slowly but surely becoming a full-blown fuckin’ grin the longer Ed holds his gaze. It’s like the guy knows exactly what he and Al were talking about. He probably  _ does _ know exactly what he and Al were talking about.

      Is that a paranoid thought? It’s not paranoid when they’re actually out to get you, right?

      With no inconsiderable amount of panic, face so hot it might as well be melting off, he turns back to look Al straight in his smug fuckin’ face. “Um.” He says, eloquently.

      “I won’t  _ say  _ I told you so, but just know that I’m thinking it. Ling is nice enough, and pretty enough, but  _ that _ guy is… really attractive.” That dreamy look in Al’s eyes as he props his chin up on one of  his hands makes Ed wanna start fuckin’ punching things.

      “Hey Al, I think you have a little drool on your chin. And, hey,  _ totally unrelated subject,  _ how’s Winry? You know, your girlfriend? Our oldest friend? The woman with the wrench?”

      Al just beams at Ed and takes another infuriating sip of his drink. “She’s wonderful.  _ And _ wonderfully attractive. Much like our handsome friend, over there.”

      “Professor Bradley is hotter,” Ed mutters under his breath  _ like a lying liar who lies. _

      “Who’s hotter than who?” Asks a silky-smooth voice on Ed’s left. It even startles Al into a flinch that almost coats his knee in cocktail before he’s able to plaster his best smile on his face. It’s the one with the dimples, which takes even straight men out at the knees. Ed begrudgingly appreciates the effort. It’s definitely more than Ed can manage, since he’s too busy being a fuckin’ dumbass who can’t seem to do anything but gawk at this  _ very  _ Tall Drink of Water that’s invading his personal space.

      “My brother thinks Professor Bradley - the Dean of Science at UBC - is hot,” Al informs Tall Drink, nose wrinkled delicately, dimples still out to play.

      Tall Drink flashes a dimple of his own as he laughs, head thrown back. It shows off a previously unexplored angle of his jaw - one that’s goddamn  _ fantastic - _ and Ed knows with sudden clarity that if he’d been standing he would’ve gone weak at the knees.  _ Both _ knees, even the one that’s fuckin’ robotic.

      “You know, that’s an intriguing coincidence,” Tall Drink says to Al, “because I think your brother is hot. If you’ll excuse the colloquialism.”

      Ed’s jaw drops to the fuckin’ floor.

      He would be embarrassed about it, if Al hadn’t chosen the same moment to choke on his drink.

      “You - you didn’t really just fuckin’ say that,” Ed sputters. This sort of thing  _ does not _ happen to Ed. Well, it doesn’t happen  _ anymore,  _ hasn’t happened since his undergraduate degree at least, didn’t happen even when he and Ling started dating. 

      It _ definitely _ doesn’t happen  _ now. _ Mostly because ninety-five percent of his time is spent either in the library looking like a feral degenerate, or at his apartment where he binge-watches Grey’s Anatomy and tries to pretend that it’s not the closest he’s been to Ling in weeks. Months, even.

      The singular dimple  _ (how can people have only one dimple? This fucker has one on the left side, but not the right, like a fuckin’ sexy dumbass) _ that Tall Drink aims directly at Ed is like taking a punch to the face. It’s a punch that Ed  _ likes,  _ which mostly means that it leaves Ed dazed, a little confused, and barely capable of coherent thought.

      “I did indeed say that. I can say it again, if that’s what you desire.” Fuck this guy,  _ and _ his pretty fuckin’ words.

      Ed sends a wide-eyed look at Al, but Al’s too busy dimpling at Tall Drink to notice. 

      “Uh, no, that’s unnecessary.” Ed manages, after being quiet for  _ way  _ too long.

      Tall Drink leans down to smolder at him (and  _ wow,  _ Ed can literally feel this guy’s  _ body heat _ that’s how close he is _ ),  _ and says, “Well, if you won’t let me wax poetic about how attractive I find you, maybe you’ll let me buy you a drink?”

      Ed tears his eyes away from Tall Drink’s to look at - at - frankly, to look  _ fuckin’ anywhere else.  _ “No. Uh, thank you, no. I have water,” Ed mumbles, making an aborted motion with his glass that almost sloshes water everywhere, because apparently Ed’s a smooth motherfucker when flustered.

      Tall Drink just grins like he’s trying not to laugh, and drags a hand through his hair. It stays artfully tousled. What an absolute  _ fucker.  _ “I’m going to buy you a drink.”

      “Shit - no, don’t do that,” Ed repeats, grabbing Tall Drink’s arm with his robotic hand as he tries to head back towards the bar. Tall Drink pauses, glancing quickly between Ed’s hand and face, an unreadable look in his eyes. Ed releases his arm like it’s turned into a venomous fuckin’ cobra - fuck, you’d think after this many years he’d learn how to stop fuckin’ grabbing people with his metal fuckin’ hand. It always freaks them out, and then he wants to punch them. Sometimes he  _ does,  _ but that never goes well.“I mean - uh - I can’t - I don’t drink often. I’m not drinking tonight, I’m driving my little brother home. Alphonse. Who is right there.”

      Ed motions towards Al, and Al waggles his fingers in a little wave. “I’m getting drunk tonight, because I can,” is Al’s super-fuckin’-helpful addition.

      “Hmm. Isn’t that responsible,” Tall Drink says to no one in particular.

      “It’s the only time my brother is  _ ever _ particularly responsible,” Al adds conspiratorially.

      There’s a dangerous little twinkle in Tall Drink’s eyes. “Irresponsible, except for cases that concern your brother? A family man, then. That’s incredibly attractive,” he murmurs, and Ed  _ shouldn’t _ be able to hear it over the din of the bar, but he  _ can,  _ and it’s fuckin’  _ doing things.  _ To Ed’s  _ mind.  _ His face feels like it’s on fuckin’  _ fire.  _

      “You know, there are many attractive people at this bar, including your absolutely stunning brother,” Tall Drink continues conversationally, seating himself on the arm of Ed’s chair without ever taking his eyes away from Ed’s, as Al looks on and giggles, “and yet I have found myself unable to take my eyes off you - only you - for the past two hours. I find you  _ incredibly  _ striking. Which makes me wonder - do you find me attractive, as well?”

      “No.” Ed’s response is automatic, his mouth moving before his brain can catch up. He doesn’t even sound fuckin’  _ believeable.  _

      Tall Drink smirks, dimple making a fleeting appearance. “I think you do,” he says.

      “He does,” is Al’s  _ super fuckin’ helpful _ addition. Thanks for the backup,  _ brother. _

      Tall Drink’s self-satisfied expression is almost infuriating, but it’s getting pretty fuckin’ hard to feel anything but helplessly fuckin’ attracted to the attention this guy is just  _ pampering _ Ed with. It’s fuckin’ intense. It’s uncomfortable. It’s  _ so fuckin’ hot.  _ Tall Drink’s eyes haven’t left Ed - not even to look at Al, not in any way that counts - since they locked eyes when Tall Drink was still at the bar. 

      Tall Drink tosses his hair out of his eyes, then leans down until he’s basically nose-to-nose with Ed. “Now that we have agreed about our mutual attraction -”  _ (I don’t remember agreeing about anything,  _ Ed mutters under his breath) “- I would like to invite you to come home with me. Tonight. Now.”

      Ed might, maybe, lose the ability to breathe. Just temporarily.

      Tall Drink smiles, soft and genuine. It’s the first time all night he’s shown anything but that infuriating fuckin’ smirk. “If you come home with me tonight, I promise that when you leave - which might be tomorrow, or the next day, whatever you prefer -  you will leave satisfied. Multiple times, at that.”

      As if through a fuckin’ tunnel, Ed hears himself say, high and breathy, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidd-”

      Tall Drink’s smile just grows as he speaks right over Ed, never raising his voice. If anything, his voice gets  _ lower. _ “We’ll make love as many times as we can handle. Afterwards - or during, I’m not picky - you’ll say ‘I never do this kind of thing’. Then, we’ll do it again.”

      “Is that fuckin’ right?” Ed manages.

      “It is.” The guy is close enough that, if Ed were to so much as twitch, their lips would brush. “If you were drinking tonight, I would ask again if I could buy you a drink. Just one drink, though. Enough to soften the edges of any embarrassment, of our more restrictive inhibitions. Not enough to become sloppy, though. I  _ did _ promise to satisfy you.”

      “Multiple times,” Al provides, sounding decidedly… affected.

      Tall Drink’s eyes never stray. “That’s right. So, here we go. Will you come home with me tonight, please?”

      “What do you expect me to say to that?” Ed asks, genuinely curious.

      Tall Drink gives a slow blink, mono-lidded eyes hot and  _ hungry.  _ “I would not presume to expect anything from you. I do hope that you will consider saying yes, though.”

      “Wow,” Ed breathes. For a moment he’s stuck there, staring into Tall Drink’s dark eyes, and the only option he wants to consider is going home and getting  _ wrecked _ by this glorious man.

_       Ling. Ling Ling Ling, my boyfriend, who I fuckin’ like, who’s a real fuckin’ person, and I need to leave. I need to leave now. Leave now… Now.  _

      “Listen, uh -”

      “Mustang.”

_       “Seriously?  _ Your name is fuckin’  _ Mustang?  _ That has to be a fuckin’ pen name or somethin’. A pseudonym. What, do you write fuckin’  _ harlequin romance _ on the side, when you’re not busy hitting on unsuspecting people in bars?”

      Tall Drink laughs and looks to the side, tips of his ears going red. It’s fuckin’  _ adorable.  _ “Well. My first name is Roy, if that makes you more comfortable. My mother’s last name is  _ Christmas,  _ so Mustang is the least of the possible evils, in this case.”

      Ed takes a second to be duly impressed at the sheer fuckin’  _ grossness _ of those names, then slaps his hands on his knees. “One that sad fuckin’ note, it’s time to fuckin’ go. Al, come on, we’re going.” Ed stands abruptly,  _ nearly _ avoiding headbutting Tall Drink -  _ Roy  _ \- in his perfect fuckin’ forehead.

      It’s probably a good thing that Al doesn’t move immediately, because Ed’s stupid fuckin’ robot knee chooses that  _ exact  _ moment to lock up, like it always does when he tries to move too fast, which he would’ve  _ remembered _ if he wasn’t fuckin’  _ flustered. _

      “Ed, if I wasn’t  _ completely _ in love with my girlfriend, I would go home with that man  _ right now,”  _ Al declares, looking between Roy and Ed with a lost expression on his face. 

      “Oh for fuck’s - we’re  _ going now.”  _ Ed all but snarls, smacking his metal knee with his hand until it works, then grabbing Al by the hands and yanking him out of his chair.

      Al half-protests as Ed drags them towards the door - especially when Ed almost bowls over a waiter carrying tray of rainbow-coloured drinks on his mad tirade to get out of the goddamn bar - but Ed is too fuckin’ busy to watch where he’s going, because he’s  _ not _ gonna look back at that fuckin’ bastard with his - his  _ words _ and his  _ eyes _ and his  _ tall, sexy - _

      Roy is still staring after him, and it looks like he’s mouthing the word  _ Ed  _ over the rim of his glass.


	2. The Cheesecake Factory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (“Oh, it’s finally getting good,” Al says to Winry, patting her excitedly on the arm. “I’ve been waiting four years for this.” 
> 
> “Can we get another round of drinks, please? We’re going to want to be drunk for this,” Winry tells the waitress.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2, finally! I haven't written anything else for this fic, so jury's out on when you'll get an update. you'll get one eventually, though! also, y'all are great. thanks for sticking with me <3

“Hey, brother?” Al asks, leaning close to Ed, drink up near his face as if to obscure his mouth from malicious lip-readers.

“Yeah?” Ed returns, wary. 

“You know I hate to swear, but... we’re at the  _ darn _ Cheesecake Factory. To celebrate your  _ PhD. _ We could be… literally anywhere else right now. I can think of  _ so  _ many places I would rather be than right here in this Cheesecake Factory. We could be somewhere that has decent gin, at least.” Al wrinkles his nose delicately, as if the sub-par alcohol has personally offended him. It probably has.

Ed crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, propping it up on its back legs. “It’s nice enough, Al. Ling took time out of his schedule to plan this, and it’s not often we get to do shit like this together. Even if I think it’s fuckin’ _sappy.”_

_ Sappy,  _ Winry mouths from her spot on Al’s other side, looking  _ fully  _ confused. Al pats her knee commiseratingly. 

“Besides,”  Ed mutters into his water, embarrassed at the way he can feel his ears go red, “He said he had something big to tell me, and he wanted to do it in front of his friends. I think he’s finally gonna bite the fuckin’ bullet and ask me to move in with him.”

He doesn’t miss the wide-eyed look that Winry and Al share, but he doesn’t particularly care if they think it’s a bad idea. It’s been four fuckin’ years; moving in together is a reasonable fuckin’ progression of his and Ling’s relationship. He’s allowed to want it. He’s allowed to be kinda excited about it. 

“Well, if this is a celebration of you,” Winry hedges, obviously avoiding commenting on Ed and Ling’s relationship in  _ any way, _ “why aren’t any of your friends here? As far as I can tell it’s just us and Ling’s weird doctor friends.” Winry eyes one of the men at the end of the table suspiciously over her beer. “If that one tells me he’s a neurosurgeon, I’m  _ running.  _ He’s trying  _ way _ too hard to be Derek Shepherd.”

Ed makes a face, but doesn’t argue the point about the Patrick-Dempsey-wannabe. “Because,” he says, “as you always like to point out, I don’t  _ have  _ any friends that aren’t you or Al. Or Paninya, maybe, but I’m still not fuckin’ sure if we’re actually friends or if we just like blowing things up enough to tolerate each others’ miserable fuckin’ company.”

“Robotic legs and rage issues do tend to bond people,” Winry muses. She’s the one who built the prosthetics for both him and Paninya, so she would know, but Ed still flips her the finger and leans back further in his chair in protest.

They wait in silence for a few minutes more - well, relative silence. Ling is over on the other side of the table socializing with his friends, all of them looking like they’re just stepped out of a stylist’s trailer on a TV set. There are charismatic hair flips, flashes of too-white teeth, and slightly tense laughter - it’s all a little uncanny valley, if Ed’s being honest about it.

“Alright, that’s enough of that. I’m bored, the doctors look like they’re  _ pod people, _ and I want to go somewhere that has  _ actual  _ alcohol so we can all  _ actually  _ celebrate your impressive academic achievements,” Al says suddenly, brushing imaginary crumbs off his knees and rising to his feet.

_ “Finally,”  _ Winry whispers, “I thought we were just going to sit here like assholes forever.”

“Well, Ling,” Al projects his voice like a master, so their table immediately quiets. “Thank you for inviting me to celebrate my brother’s indoctrination into academia at this…  _ wonderful  _ venue. This whole experience has been riveting, truly, like stepping into an episode of daytime television. I keep expecting to find McDreamy and McSteamy at the other end of the table, desperately trying to seduce Ellen Pompeo!”

Al pauses for a moment to let Ling’s friends titter uncomfortably before he’s smiling beatifically and raising his glass into the air. He turns to Ed and says, “To my brother: good job. This has been a long time coming, and you deserve this. To the first - but hopefully not the last - Doctor Elric!”

Everyone cheers, raising their glasses, and Al slams his drink, grimacing a little at the end. Ed blushes  _ hard _ and sinks deep into his chair. This is so fuckin’ embarrassing. He should have never agreed to this. He hates attention, and people, and  _ living.  _

Once the cheering dies down a little Ling stands up, holding his own glass aloft. Seeing him like this, charismatic and striking even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the Cheesecake Factory, Ed can very clearly remember why they shacked up together. They’ve never really had many common interests, but, well… they definitely make quite the pair, aesthetically. 

_ (Thinking someone is pretty is not a healthy basis for a long-term committed relationship,  _ a little voice that sounds like Al says in Ed’s head. Ed steadfastly ignores it, as he has been for the last four years.)

Ed, contrary to popular belief, knows exactly what he looks like. He wasn’t  _ always _ in a long-term committed relationship - there were times where he needed to get his fuckin’ rocks off, and the best way for him to do that was to leave his hair loose and bat his fuckin’ eyelashes. Men and women would come flocking from all sides of the bar, just to talk to him. Observation isn’t exactly  _ difficult _ science, and there was a pattern of behaviour there that suggested Edward and his hair and his admittedly symmetrical face were the common denominators. So, he knows he’s hot because he did the science. Easy.

Ling, though… Ed didn’t have to do  _ any  _ science. Ling is drop-to-your-knees hot. Ling is the epitome of tall dark and handsome in a way that even Al’s ‘McDreamy’ would be hard-pressed to compete with, that even Ed’s hazy memory of  _ Tall Drink _ would be hard-pressed to compete with. Ling is made up of tantalizingly long lines and sharp edges, enticing but dangerous, like a poisonous animal. Ed loves being able to catalogue which edges are touchable and which aren’t, noting those that cause pleasure and those that cause pain, for both of them.

(Ed thinks sometimes when he touches Ling he should come away with sharp, stinging cuts, like when he touches sharp glass. Ling should come with warnings that say  _ look but don’t touch, admire from a distance.  _ Ed loves being the exception.)

“If I could call our guest of honour up here beside me - you know, I forget what he looks like, does anyone remember? I haven’t seen him in a while,” Ling jokes, smiling magnanimously at everyone around their table. 

(It’s not a lie like everyone thinks it is. This is the first time Ed has seen Ling in at least a month.)

Neck hot, Ed stands from his chair and ambles his way over to Ling, giving Al a gentle cuff on the back of the head when he makes an indignant noise at Ling’s admittedly poorly-thought-out joke.

Once Ed reaches Ling, Ling smiles broadly and takes his hand. Ed can’t help but soften at the gesture, just a little bit. Ling’s just - he’s so  _ pretty.  _

See - it’s like - when they’re apart, Ed  _ knows  _ there are all these problems that he should really be examining with a critical eye. He feels shitty about their relationship for a hundred different reasons, each one more reasonable than the last. Unfortunately, when they’re together like this, when Ed has to literally stare into Ling’s eyes, it’s really fuckin’ hard to  _ remember  _ those reasons.

“Baby,” Ling begins, looking right at Ed, “I’m so proud of you. We had our doubts that you could really pull it off - well, you know, we’ve talked about it - but look at you now!” 

Ling’s friends laugh, and Ed stifles a sigh. 

They  _ had _ talked about that before, on one of Ed’s more self-deprecating days. Ed had confided in Ling, telling him about his fears that he wasn’t smart enough, that he didn’t deserve to be in his program and studying his biochemistry on the same level as those he admires. Al had told him once that those feelings are called imposter syndrome and that it’s just his brain manifesting his anxiety in a self-destructive way. Ling, upon hearing Ed’s distress, had told Ed that maybe he just wasn’t suited for academia.

Ling has never really been great at separating the  _ private _ from the  _ public,  _ though, so Ed really should have expected this shit to come out eventually. It does make Ed feel a little better to see, out of the corner of his eye, Al physically holding Winry in her chair in order to prevent her from  _ attacking _ Ling.

“I told you the night you got your PhD would be a special one, baby,” Ling continues, “And look at this - everyone who loves you in one room, celebrating you! It’s a night to remember, for sure.”

_ (Everyone,  _ Winry mouths at Al, still struggling a little, and Al shakes his head commiseratingly and mouths  _ Baby _ back.)

“So, Edward, I’d like to formally ask you, in front of all our friends…”

Ed can’t help but hold his breath, a little. He’s  _ desperately _ embarrassed by Ling’s speech and the resulting attention, and he  _ definitely _ didn’t want to be having this conversation about their relationship in a public place, but at least it’s finally fuckin’ happening. After four years of uncertainty, Ling’s finally fuckin’ acknowledging that his and Ed’s relationship is more than just casual in a way he can’t take back.

“... if you would like a research position at Vancouver General Hospital!” Ling finishes with a flourish.

The table erupts into raucous cheers. Ling has this great big smile on his face, like he’s just given Ed the keys to the fuckin’ moon, and Ed can’t do anything but raise his eyebrows and try to smile, to breathe. He takes a step back - would have taken more, but his  _ fuckin’ metal knee _ locks up again.

Ling, to his credit, notices Ed’s distress immediately. “Do you already have a better offer?” he asks.

“No - well I _ do, _ actually, it’s just - it’s a nice thought, but -” Ed uses his grasp on Ling’s hand to pull him a little closer and say, as quietly as he can, “I thought you were going to ask me to move in with you.”

The honest surprise and discomfort on Ling’s face hurts, a bit. 

(A lot.)

“Nevermind, it’s fine, I guess,” Ed rushes to say, prodding anxiously at his knee with his fingers, “I don’t know why I was thinking - it’s not like we’ve ever talked about this shit before.”

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that’s what you were expecting -” Ling begins, but Ed cuts him off, desperately wanting to  _ stop talking about this right now.  _

This is  _ so  _ embarrassing. This is exactly why he doesn’t fuckin’ go anywhere except for his apartment, Al’s apartment, or campus. Shit like this  _ always _ happens when he goes out and does things in places that have people.

“It’s fine, Ling, don’t worry about it,” Ed says.  _ Finally,  _ Ed finds the sticky mechanism underneath where his patella should be - he gives it a sharp tweak and he’s able to turn away to make his way back to his chair.

And that would have been it. If Ling had been able to keep his sorry mouth shut, Ed probably would have stayed with him in what he’s now realizing is a desperately unhappy and unfulfilling relationship. He would have stayed in this awful casual-serious relationship limbo for another two years, then married Ling after another two. They would have had 2.5 shitty kids, lived in the fuckin’ suburbs, and Ed would have gone through the motions of the life he was never able to have as a child, one doesn’t  _ want _ as an adult, until he literally died of boredom.

In retrospect, it’s a relief when Ling opens his dumb fuckin’ mouth to say: “It’s definitely a possibility in the future. I think I just need a little more time to figure out how I feel about  _ us, _ you know?”

Ed’s mouth moves, and it says “No, I know,” before his brain is able to catch up.

But then it  _ does _ catch up, and something inside Ed snaps. It sounds a little like breaking a pencil, or like letting a straw clatter onto a straining camel’s back. Either way, Ed’s fight response  _ kicks the fuck in,  _ and Ed rounds on Ling with murder in his eyes.

(“Oh, it’s _finally_ getting good,” Al says to Winry, patting her excitedly on the arm. “I’ve been waiting four years for this.” 

“Can we get another round of drinks, please? We’re going to want to be drunk for this,” Winry tells the waitress.)

Ed barks out a laugh, buries his face in his hands, then laughs again, louder this time. 

“Baby?” Ling asks, inching gingerly backwards.

“Are you telling me,” Ed manages, so absolutely taken aback that he’s circled right around to  _ pissed the fuck off,  _ “that you are  _ just now _ figuring out how you feel? About  _ us?” _

Ling looks at his friends with an expression in his eyes that says  _ help, get me out of here,  _ and that’s all the answer Ed needs.

“Oh my  _ god, _ it’s been  _ four years _ and you’re  _ just _ figuring out how you  _ feel.  _ About  _ us.  _ You piece of  _ shit!” _ Ed snags Al’s new drink off the waitress’ tray and downs it all in one go, chugging it like water. It’s a huge fuckin’ miscalculation - he’s sputtering and grimacing and gasping at the end.

“Is that gin?” he asks Al around a cough, and Al nods, grinning like he’s just gotten a pony for Christmas. “Oh, that’s  _ awful,  _ I’m so glad I don’t drink,  _ fuck.” _

Fortunately, the burn of the alcohol does exactly what Ed wants it to do: it gives him a moment of distraction that allows him to direct his rage at Ling in a way that will let him yell without

without the looming fear of embarrassing himself so badly that he literally has to leave the fuckin’ country afterwards.

(Later, he might consider running for the hills and staying there. Right now, he is on  _ fire. _ Ling is going  _ down.) _

“A  _ research _ position? You want to offer me a  _ research position _ at your  _ hospital?”  _ Is where Ed begins.

Ling shifts slightly on his feet, and starts to look a little uncomfortable. “Well - I can’t  _ formally _ offer it to you because I’m still a resident, so you’ll have to apply and interview for the position yourself. And it’s not technically a research position, it’s a research aide position. There is a job opening, though! And it would be in the hospital, so we could see each other more often!”

“Holy  _ fuck!” _ Ed all but shrieks. “You are  _ awful! _ Al was  _ right! _ You are the  _ worst!” _

The waitress walks by again with a replacement drink for Al on her tray, and Ed snags it again. He doesn’t drink it immediately this time, instead choosing to brandish it in Ling’s face like he’s  _ this close _ to dumping it over his head. 

(He is  _ literally this close _ to dumping it all over Ling’s head. He could do it. There would be no repercussions. He  _ could do it.) _

“You know what the best fuckin’ part is,” Ed laughs, maybe a  _ little _ manic, “I would’ve waited for you, then I would’ve moved in with you, and in three years I probably would’ve fuckin’  _ married _ you! What a miserable fuckin’ existence that would be! I swear to fuckin’ God, just three seconds ago I thinking about what a  _ shitty fuckin’ boyfriend  _ you are! And yet! I  _ still _ would have said yes!”

Ed chooses this moment to down the new drink, and comes up sputtering yet again. “Oh god, that’s  _ worse,  _ that’s  _ worse _ than the first one.”

“It’s cause it’s Cheesecake Factory vodka,” Al offers.

“It’s cause it’s  _ shitty fuckin’ Cheesecake Factory vodka!”  _ Ed yells, vindicated, slamming his glass down on the table with a clatter. “Who takes their boyfriend to a  _ Cheesecake Factory _ to celebrate his _ PhD?!” _

Even though he’s angry, it takes Ed a second to convince his brain that looking at Ling is a good idea.  _ He could be crying,  _ his brain - which sounds worrying like Al - says,  _ or he could  _ **_not_ ** _ be crying and that’s probably worse. _

When Ed looks, Ling’s not crying. Ed’s brain is right - it  _ is  _ worse. Ling looks surprised, but not devastated. His eyes are clear of tears, his hands aren’t shaking - honestly, Ling just looks like Ed’s reaction to this cock-up of a situation has been an embarrassing inconvenience rather than the end of a four year relationship.

It hurts,  _ a lot, _ but it makes Ed’s next decision a lot easier.

“Get fucked, Ling,” he proclaims., then gives Winry and Al resounding high fives, and stalks out of the restaurant.

_ (“You done fucked it now, asshole!” _ Winry shouts as Ed makes his dramatic exit from the Cheesecake Factory, and there’s a cacophonous smashing and clattering that probably means Winry has leapt over the table to kick the living shit out of Ling. 

In that moment, Ed feels loved.)

~

Ed doesn’t consciously make the decision, but twenty minutes later he finds himself outside the door to The Bar - the same bar where Al and Ed met that glorious fuckin’ Tall Drink of Water a couple months ago. What was his name? Moustache? Mouse-wang? 

_ Mustang.  _

That’s where they met  _ fuckin’ Mustang, _ with his stupid fuckin’ face and his dumb, hot fuckin’ body. Ed’s feet were apparently convinced that if Mustang was there once, he’ll surely be there again, and he won’t hesitate to take Ed - a  _ total stranger _ who talked to him  _ one time  _ \- home to fuckin’  _ ravish _ him like he hasn’t been ravished in  _ years. _

Ed is maybe, possibly, riding an anger-induced, alcohol-sustained high that he  _ really _ doesn’t want to come down from. He’s fuckin’ buzzed, and it feels fuckin’  _ great.  _ He wants to do something  _ reckless _ and  _ damn _ the fuckin’ consequences.

And you know, so what if it started raining while he was on his way over? So what if he’s lost his hair tie, and he’s absolutely fuckin’ drenched, and he looks like a drowned fuckin’ rat? So what if he’s not even sure if the bouncer will let him through the door looking like this? He’s got a fuckin’ _man_ to bag.

Stepping gingerly past the bouncer (who barely even glances at Ed, to his simultaneous relief and disappointment) Ed throws the door of The Bar open with a  _ Bang! _ and surveys the room. He feels a little like he’s in a video-game, laser-focusing until he finds his target, which is - 

_ There! _

Mustang is artfully draped over the bar, long legs crossed at the ankle as he leans in close to some girl’s ear. Presumably, they were in the middle of flirting - they’re standing way too close for polite company, and their bodies are tilted towards each other in a way that suggests Mustang had been  _ this _ close from kissing her into next week.

Luckily for Ed, his entrance to The Bar is dramatic enough to make every patron, including Mustang, snap their attention to where Ed is standing and looking like a drowned fuckin’ rat in his now-squeaky red leather jacket.

(Ed is honestly a little surprised he was able to make Mustang look away from his conquest of the night. He has slightly hazy memories of being completely entranced by Mustang, by the intense attention that was lavished on him in their short minutes together. In those moments, Ed felt like he was at the center of the world, the star that all other bodies orbit around.)

Ed lets his feet march him over to the bar of The Bar, where Mustang is levering himself up to stand on both feet, one hand trailing against the counter, an utterly bemused look on his face.

_ Good instincts, standing up like that,  _ Ed thinks absently, moments before he grabs Mustang by the collar. He gives Mustang a moment to pull away, counts to three in his head, then Ed yanks him down  _ (down, down)  _ in to a kiss.

It’s… fuckin’ hot.

Mustang is immediately on board, one hand winding into the loose hair at the nape of Ed’s neck, fingers locking in and giving a little pull that makes Ed gasp into Mustang’s mouth. Mustang’s other hand wraps firmly around Ed’s back, pulling them flush together from sternum to knee, and he leans forward to bend Ed slightly back. Ed pushes the kiss into something just-this-side of frenzied at the beginning, almost angry, with a hint of teeth that makes Mustang make soft, pleased noises that reverberate from deep in his chest. Even so, Ed doesn’t complain when Mustang slows the kiss. It turns into something hotter, slicker, and Ed is momentarily lost in the slide of their tongues and the heavy weight of Mustang’s hand in his hair, on his waist.

Too soon, Mustang pulls back, just a little. Their noses are still almost touching, and Ed’s flesh hand has found a home caressing the beautiful curve of Mustang’s jaw  _ (it’s just as nice as Ed remembers), _ while his metal hand rests gently in Mustang’s hair.

“Do you remember me?” Ed asks. His voice is low and rough - he sounds wrecked already.

“Yes.” Mustang’s gaze is heavy and half-lidded, his pupils so dilated that Ed can barely see his irises.

“Do you still think I’m attractive?”

“Yes.” Mustang’s lips are swollen and spit-slick. Ed can’t stop looking at them.

“Do you still want to take me home?”

_ “Yes.”  _ Mustang’s arm tightens around Ed’s waist, and Ed’s hand reflexively tightens in Mustang’s hair. The rakish grin Mustang gives makes Ed go a little weak at the knees  _ (both of them, even the robotic one, just like Ed fuckin’ thought)  _ and that grin only gets bigger when Mustang compensates to support Ed’s weight.

After a moment, Ed carefully steps away. He’s unable to resist trailing his flesh hand down Mustang’s neck and arm to take his hand. Mustang’s eyes never leave his.

Ed nods, once. “Good. Let’s go.”

  
  
_ (I’m not even mad about it,  _ the abandoned girl says as they hastily exit The Bar,  _ that was ridiculously hot. I’m a little jealous, but like, mostly I think I need a cold shower.) _

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at rewmariewrites.tumblr.com!  
> i'd love to hear from you for prompts, comments, or anything!


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